


Sentience

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Ficlet, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:59:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4892056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elladan and Elrohir soothe wants Elrond didn’t know he had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentience

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Poor lonely, overworked Elrond getting thoroughly 'serviced' by his beautiful sons” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/14338.html?thread=26305794#t26305794).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He should know better, but he loves them too much, and they’re too beautiful when they work together to ensnare him. They capture him in the gardens when the sun’s first falling, and they take him to their private courtyard, where they sit him down on the stone bench behind the fountain. He’s drawn into Elladan’s lap like a fly into a flower’s mouth, one that plans to close all its spindles and suck its victim down into its recesses. But it’s a wondrous death, full of pleasures life could never match. 

Elladan fits inside him so well. He’s slicked with nectars and his own son’s spit, speared open on many digits from two separate bodies, though now it’s just Elladan inside him. He leans back against Elladan’s broad chest, grown nearly broader than his own, while Elrohir kneels between his spread legs and sucks him to completion. 

“Relax, Ada,” Elladan purrs into his ear, two arms wrapped around his middle. One holds loosely at his waist, occasionally straying over to play in Elrohir’s hair. The other slips beneath Elrond’s robes, fitted into the opening that Elladan’s tugged loose. Elladan pets his skin with warm, probing fingers, plucks at his nipples and teases him to shivering. He can feel Elladan’s strong thighs open around him, his own hair flattened down Elladan’s stomach. Elladan takes him with slow, languid thrusts that make his eyes flutter behind his lids, when he isn’t fondly looking down at Elrohir. 

Elrohir has one hand on either of Elrond’s ankles, idly stroking his legs with no real need for support. Elrohir never lets Elrond far enough out of his mouth to need his fingers. He swallows his father’s shaft down his greedy throat in time with Elladan’s thrusts, except that he misses every few beats to pause at Elrond’s tip and suckle. He mostly has his grey eyes lowered, and he often hums happily, but sometimes he looks up, catches Elladan’s gaze or Elrond’s, and love or mischievous flickers in his eyes. In this case, it’s clear that he agrees with his brother’s sentiment. 

Elrond relaxes enough, or at least as he has any right to in these trying times. But he is _lonely_ sometimes, and his adoring sons do ease that ache. They think him overworked on top of it. They fret for him too much, when he should be doting on them. (And he does, but they’ve grown and blossomed well beyond the meager sprouts he planted and raised.)

They’re the ones that come to him, kiss him and pet him and bid him into beds or up against walls or even sprawled out in the grass. They’re near impossible to resist. Tonight, he can hear the minstrels still playing in the distance, and the setting sun casts a purple spectrum over Elrohir’s hair. He looks like a blessing: a figure from a song or painting, until he smiles around Elrond’s girth, and then he’s the playful imp he becomes in his brother’s company. Elladan is much the same.

Elladan’s tongue curls against the back of Elrond’s ear, followed by a heady sigh and Elladan’s deep voice. “You feel so very good—I do not think I can yet last as long as you.”

Elrond finds himself smiling for no particular reason. Sometimes his little warriors place too much importance on stamina. They amuse, exhaust, and delight him. He acquiesces, if only for Elladan’s comfort, “It would please me to feel your release.” Elladan twists to place a kiss on Elrond’s neck, then his cheek. Elrond reaches one hand back to stroke his chin, then falls back to loosely tracing Elladan’s thighs and Elrohir’s shoulders: the brackets that cage him in.

With a murmured cry that he buries in Elrond’s shoulder, Elladan spills himself inside Elrond’s channel. The warm rush is always a lovely sensation, and Elladan pumps it through, thorough and thick, still thrusting wantonly against the right spot to make Elrond flush with pleasure. He’s still spurred forward into Elrohir’s wet mouth, and Elrohir sucks all the harder for it, like his brother’s orgasm will roll right into his own. They always work in tandem.

Elrond is next to follow. Elladan continues to make love to him until he’s had too much, more elation than his frail body can contain, from the both of them alike, and the mix of their doting kisses are pushing him over the edge. He finally moves one hand to Elrohir’s silken hair, petting it back as he fills his son’s mouth with his seed. Elrohir makes a lewd, joyous noise and sucks it all down. He drinks until Elrond has nothing left to give and is raw and tender from it, and even then, Elladan has to scold, “Elrohir,” for Elrohir to slip off. He wipes his chin on his father’s thigh and leans his cheek for a moment there, breathing almost as hard as Elrond. 

Then he rises, and Elrond spreads his arms to welcome Elrohir into his lap. Elladan pulls himself out and settles back to better balance the weight, leaving Elrond empty but satiated. Elrohir slips his hand along Elrond’s cheeks. He bends forward for a soft but open kiss, where Elrond can taste himself but more so Elrohir’s lively want. Elrohir tugs lightly at his lip after and murmurs, “You are so handsome, Ada.”

“Not as much as my two sons,” Elrond returns, slightly too breathless to chuckle. Elrohir grins and nuzzles their noses together, while Elladan leans over Elrond’s shoulder to bid Elrohir for a kiss. Elrond watches them come together like they’re _one_ , and wonders, not for the first time, how he managed to create beings that have grown not only so wise and strong, but full of unadulterated love. 

Elrohir is kind about his want, but Elrond remembers it anyway and sighs, “I apologize. I do not yet have the energy to return your favour.”

“Riding you will be worth the wait,” Elrohir answers, with that gleam in his eye that says he _wants it_ and there’s no sense in arguing positions. Elrond can feel Elladan shifting behind him, likely settling into a more comfortable set for the long run. Elrond nods his acceptance, and Elrohir beams wider, bright and beautiful, bending to kiss his forehead above his diadem. Elrohir squirms only a little in his lap and otherwise behaves. 

Eventually, Elrond is ready, and his twin loves converge on him again, love spilling from each fingertip and smile.


End file.
